


Shoot the Moon Until the Night is Gone

by gunboots



Category: SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Crack, I blame ben whishaw, I'm so sorry, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, i also blame london spy, napoleon solo is jealous and will never admit it, no, ok maybe a little, rom-com hell, the fic where illya acts like armie hammer i mean what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunboots/pseuds/gunboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Henry Hammer? That's your alias's NAME?" Napoleon scans Illya's fake passport just to reaffirm what he's just READ.</p><p>Illya just gives him a blank stare.</p><p>"Peril, you sound like an adult entertainer." Napoleon says, which to be honest, is just adding to the nightmare-like quality of this mission. “Henry Hammer. The man, the legend.”</p><p>"Is just cover. I have chosen name based on American statistics, Cowboy.” Illya replies as if he doesn't understand how 'Henry Hammer' is perhaps the most obvious fake name that Napoleon has ever HEARD.</p><p>"Porn statistics maybe. You might as well go with Shaft Mcharddick or even Dick Strongbutt." Napoleon would hope that Illya would have more common sense than to watch adult videos to improve his seduction and yet…"Couldn’t you have picked something…classy? Richard, for example, is a decidedly normal name."</p><p>"Yes, because ‘Dick hammer’ is far more dignified."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot the Moon Until the Night is Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csoru/gifts), [ceredin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceredin/gifts).



> I'd like to blame and gift this fic to [csoru](http://archiveofourown.org/users/csoru), as well as [ceredin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ceredin/pseuds/ceredin), and Vawn. I'm sure I discussed this fic to all of you in different forms at some point in time. This was supposed to come out during the weekend Spectre did but then...grad school and then more grad school. This was like the longest running joke me and Lena had and tbh some of the lines were lifted VER BATIM from our LINE chats and tbh I have to give acknowledgments because without her there would be NO HENRY HAMMER line.
> 
> Basically the premise of ' **let illya act like armie for the sake of a honeypot mission** ' but escalated wildly out of control. I almost didn't tag the other two fandoms because THEY'RE SO SPOILERLY BY NATURE. Thanks to [Fish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fishew) for editing this really quick. Title is from "Can You Do This" by Aloe Blacc.

 

"Another honeypot I see." Napoleon comments as they settle into another boardroom in UNCLE's London HQ. They're fresh off a successful mission in Dubai and in all honesty, Napoleon feels like they've been on a good winning streak of no one getting seriously injured or tortured lately. The picture on the projector is of a weedy young man with dark curly hair, round owlish glasses and a patchwork sweater. To be honest, Napoleon is already considering which angle to approach him with. 

"Correct Solo, however neither you nor Ms. Teller fit the mark's type, shall we say. Kuryakin will be the one in charge of the honey pot." Waverly says, sliding manila folders businesslike, as if he didn't just propose the absurd.

"Sir, you can't be serious." Napoleon replies because there are jokes and then there are _jokes_. 

"Quite, actually. Agent Kuryakin will be seducing the mark." Waverly almost sounds smug. "We don't _always_  have to have you or Gaby doing the deed after all."

"With all due respect--forget honeypot, this is like throwing the bear along with the bees." Napoleon remarks, because Peril almost broke his hand barely an hour ago. His temper alone still has a few kinks to work out. 

"It just mission." Illya interjects, already scanning the dossier before him like this is an everyday occurrence. "Pot of honey is not difficult."

"Peril, need I remind you--"

"--you stole his watch. Again. You can hardly blame Illya." Gaby corrects, factual. "Not everything is about you Napoleon."

"Yes, well." That was actually a very valid point, Napoleon concedes with a sigh. So much for their winning streak of successful mission with minimal damage. 

\---

Their mission parameters are par for the course. The mark is named Nial G. Mifen and despite his relatively unobtrusive appearance he is one of the foremost minds of the weapons development community. Due to a recent scare involving assassination attempts by competitors however, he's had a change of heart and has decided to go into hiding. Mr. Mifen also had the foresight to know that retirement in his line of work wasn't necessarily simple without insurance. 

"This man here holds plans for at least three different types of smart nukes as well as the blueprints for five different types of unmanned drones. Simply put, Mr. Mifen could build a devastating army with enough of the right materials and motivation." Waverly explains, smile a touch sardonic. "He's using this knowledge to keep himself safe and for the most part it's worked...but unfortunately for dear Nial, we've recently been informed of the interference of several countries on his personal holiday."

"So we kidnap poor little Nial for his own safety then?" Napoleon surmises, the case sounds open and shut—should barely take the five days that Waverly has allotted for their mission time. 

"Quite right--despite what it sounds like gentlemen and my dear Ms. Teller, it's not exactly going to be easy. Mr. Mifen has gotten a bit on the  _cautious_  side. Approaching him isn’t the problem, it’s getting his research—the FSB already made an attempt to court Mr. Mifen earlier and the results weren't exactly glamorous. Moscow had to medievac their agents out." Waverly reports as Illya's mouth thins. "You all are going to have to seize our dear friend as well as his files lest they fall into the wrong hands." 

"Isn't this all the more reason for ME to lead him into the honey pot Sir? He'll be waiting _for_  a Russian agent." It's a fair observation, because someone has to be the voice of reason now that Illya has gone off the deep end. He honestly expected Gaby to answer the call but well. 

"Please have more faith in your colleagues Solo." Waverly blithely reprimands and it's as good of a put down as any. 

\---

It’s hard to follow Waverly’s advice when Illya already seems so woefully ill-prepared on all fronts Napoleon discovers, particularly when it comes to his own cover. 

"Henry Hammer? That's your alias's _name_?" Napoleon scans Illya's fake passport just to reaffirm what he's just READ. 

Illya just gives him a blank stare.

"Peril, you sound like an adult entertainer." Napoleon says, which to be honest, is just adding to the nightmare-like quality of this mission. “Henry Hammer. The man, the legend.”

"Is just cover. I have chosen name based on American statistics, Cowboy.” Illya replies as if he doesn't understand how 'Henry Hammer' is perhaps the most obvious fake name that Napoleon has ever HEARD. 

"Porn statistics maybe. You might as well go with Shaft Mcharddick or even Dick Strongbutt." Napoleon would hope that Illya would have more common sense than to watch adult videos to improve his seduction and yet…"Couldn’t you have picked something…classy? Richard, for example, is a decidedly normal name."

Illya shrugs and the muscle tank he's wearing does nothing but accentuate the vivid line of his shoulder muscles. Napoleon is nothing if not appreciative for the view at least. 

"Yes, because ‘Dick hammer’ is far more dignified." Which fine...Illya has him there. 

"Excuse me for being a little cautious--"

"--Strange, you are not usually so." Illya's mouth twitches slightly as he turns to go back to packing. Great Russia’s finest was LAUGHING at him. "Cowboy, I can handle mission. Do not question my methods. Henry Hammer stays as name."

Napoleon lets out the deep sigh of Cassandra, who foresaw tragedy and was powerless to stop it. 

\---

Gaby doesn’t see anything wrong with Illya’s alias at all because of bias. Clearly. Instead she spends the entire plane ride in first class making not so passive comments about ‘jealousy’ and ‘blindness’ that he doesn’t bother acknowledging out of the spirit of camaraderie.

When they finally check into the five star hotel that Nial has decided to shack up in, Napoleon is more than eager to spend the rest of the day dutifully gathering intel. (If he so happens to want to work off some extra stress with a few old paramours and maybe lift a painting or three then he’ll just add that to his information gathering process). Gaby, playing the role of his dear younger sister this time, seems just as enthusiastic to make her way around the hotel and its fabled pools and bar. 

What they don’t expect is to literally crash into Illya as he exits the elevator. 

At least…Napoleon THOUGHT it was Illya. But the accent was all wrong and he fights (and fails) to keep the surprise off his face at it.

“My bad dude—you alright?” The man that Napoleon thinks is Illya but can’t POSSIBLY be holds out his hand to help Napoleon off the floor and Napoleon breaks character for just a second as he stares at it and then the man himself.

Either they have just found Peril’s doppelganger or the man had just bested Napoleon at his own GAME. Nothing about this man even remotely resembles Illya. From the unkempt hair and the deliberately unshaven face to the leisurely gait--oh god, was that a Lacoste button down and Ray-bans—the man is everything that Illya is not. 

“My apologies, just got off the red eye with my sister and I’m feeling a bit out of it.” Gaby nods, smile strained, next to him. Napoleon is inwardly relieved to see she’s taking the sudden reveal just as badly as he is.  Napoleon takes the man’s hand and it’s strange, but he can feel the scars that should feel familiar. “Thank you, Mister—”

“Hammer, Henry Hammer. Please just call me Henry.” And there, just for a brief second there’s a glint in ‘Henry’s eyes that is all Illya and it unsettles Napoleon that even though Peril is MOCKING him, he can’t rise to the bait. “Crazy name, I know—my dad thought it was super hilarious at the time.” 

Napoleon considers retaliation by lifting Illya’s watch again—only to realize that it’s already missing. Next to him Gaby coughs pointedly. “Connor, we’re going to be late to meeting up with Mom and Dad.”

“Right.” Napoleon releases ‘Henry’s hand and tries not to focus on the alarming tan that Henry has or the fact that Napoleon wants to irrationally run his hands through Henry’s hair to see if there truly wasn’t some kind of mind-control device. 

“Uhh, well it was nice to meet you guys? See you around.” Henry says, a disarming exit as any, as if he didn’t just gave Napoleon and Gaby the fright of their lives. 

\---

“That…was unexpected.” Napoleon announces when they make it to the safety of their room. There's tradecraft and then there's witchcraft and Napoleon is starting to believe in the latter more so than the former. “That _can't_  be Peril.”

“That _was_  Illya, he’s just undercover.” Gaby’s wavering tone spoke volumes. “We’ve just never seen him in a honeypot.”

“That’s not a ‘cover’ Gaby—that was ungodly.” Which ok, fine Napoleon will evaluate and think on the irony of their situation later but at the moment he just needs to get all this pure shock out of his system. “The man was wearing Sperrys and Ray-bans and said the word ‘dude’—all things I know Agent Kuryakin would not do under pain of DEATH."

“Spies are supposed to be able to do that.” Gaby allows after a moment, thoughtful. “You just tend to play the same kind of person over and over again so we’ve probably forgotten.”

And that remark all but slaps Napoleon into reality. 

“Excuse me?” Because if it wasn’t for his charm and competence, he wouldn’t have MET Gaby let alone, saved her. “Ms. Teller, may I remind you that I—”

“—Used to be a thief, I know. And that works with thieves, you’re supposed to be charming. But you do tend to be the same person over and over.” Gaby looks apologetic, aware that she more than likely insulted him deeply. “Not that it doesn’t work—it’s just, Illya IS trained to be a spy.” 

Shown up by Peril of all people, Napoleon cannot STOP feeling offended.

\---

Illya finally shows up around midnight, slipping into their room even though Napoleon is certain Gaby had locked and deadbolted the door.

“Quite the party trick you pulled earlier.” Napoleon greets from where he’s going over the hotel blueprints on his ipad. Gaby makes an amused noise from where she’s laying on the bed, scanning through security cam footage. “Have you always been able to do that?”

Illya is still dressed in his ridiculous frat boy-wear, but his stance is rigid and he cracks his neck as if to re-establish the tension in his shoulders. 

“Accent is hard to maintain.” Is all Illya says in explanation, taking a seat on the bed. “Already recognized two agents at pool and one at beach—none are trying to make contact. Was able to find mark and talk to him without trouble.”

“What kind of agents?”

“Two at pool are MI6, but other at beach is private security. They have done nothing but observe.”

“They’re just watching you talk to him?” Gaby pauses, looking up from her laptop. “Maybe they’re trying to figure out what to do now—”

“--But they were here first, there’s no reason for them to just sit by while Peril flirts with the mark.” Napoleon looks up from his tablet, raising a brow. “Granted , as distracting as Mr. Hammer is, that should have caused some kind of reaction.”

“They are least of problem—something feels off about mark.” Illya says, crossing his arms. “Cannot tell what it is yet.”

“Is Mr. Mifen impervious to Henry’s ‘hammer’?” Napoleon asks ,  expression innocent. Illya rolls his eyes while Gaby coughs and it sounds a lot like the word ‘jealous’.

“You were not present an hour ago then—” Illya says (and if the first thing Napoleon noticed had been Illya’s rumpled appearance he hadn’t commented on it), “—that is not what is wrong, mark just seems strange. Does not act like someone fearing for their life.”

“Well that tends to happen when you’re in the middle of bedding them…most of the time at least.” Napoleon says, Gaby looks up from her tablet to peer at him, thankfully Illya’s phone interrupts, blasting the tail end of the chorus for a pop song where the singer warbles some terrible allusion to oral sex. It’s grating and mystifying. 

“Who are you?” Napoleon half-demands as the chorus starts up again, even as he files away Illya’s observations to look into later. 

Illya gives him a flat look before glancing at his screen, rising to exit. 

“Will report more later.” And of course, in typical fashion Illya completely disappears.

“Should we be worried that he was able to enter and leave so easily?”

“It’s Illya.”

“True.” And there’s comfort in that observation.

\---

“You could stare  _less_  you know.” Gaby laughs as she sips idly at her cocktail, reclining on her beach chair and looking for all the world like a woman at ease. 

“Gaby, I’m simply trying to figure out what Peril meant last night.” It flies off his tongue easily and if it feels like an excuse well that’s Napoleon’s business and his alone. Instead he adjusts his aviators and takes another drink from his martini at the poolside bar. Before them, a good distance away, ‘Henry’ is laughing as he helps pull the mark into pool. Nial looks besotted at the way Henry is holding his arms and leading him into its pristine waters. Napoleon admittedly can sympathize, Illya was a deadly weapon on most days but this was just _illegal_. “I have yet to see any other agents—that’s not a good sign.” 

Napoleon wonders if it actually hurts Illya to use this many of his facial muscles for this long of a period of time. Gaby makes a considering noise and Napoleon drains the rest of his glass.

He turns just in time to see Henry lift Nial out of the pool in a fireman’s carry and clear out of the water. In response, Napoleon accidentally slams the martini glass down with more force than he intended, wincing at the twinkle of cracking along the edge. He can hardly be blamed for the action, he feels like he’s seen a comet. Something fleeting that’ll never occur in thousands of years.

For some reason, it irritates him far more than anything else in this trip

“Totally jealous.” Gaby singsongs into the communication link and he doesn’t have to turn to see the smug grin obscured by the brim of her hat. 

\---

Napoleon is honest with few people, including himself ,  but he can’t ignore the facts. 

What started out as interest has built into something that is too intense to sign off as simple curiosity. Especially now, when he and Gaby are sitting across the table from Henry and the mark in the hotel’s casual café and all he can think of is how the delicate looking Mr. Mifen is absolutely WASTED on Illya.

“So I ran into these two a few days ago and I thought it was so cool they’re here together to take a sibling vacay.” Henry is saying, his arm over the back of Nial’s chair in the booth like it belongs there. Like this easy, open  affection is something that comes to him naturally. Napoleon stabs his steak a little harder than necessary as Gaby giggles next to him, batting her eyes coyly. Nial makes a curious glance at the action but doesn’t comment otherwise.

“We’ve been saving up forever for this trip—our parents just decided to retire here out of nowhere, isn’t that right Connor?” She discreetly nudges Napoleon with her shoe and it’s a good enough jab to jostle him and their part of the table. Napoleon finally looks up from his steak and tries not to focus on how much he wants Henry to give him stubble burn on his thighs. He’s not so sure he succeeds.

“Yes well, Kara and I—”

“Your parents named you after Superboy and Supergirl?” Nial asks, caught between amusement and amazement. “That’s—” 

“—Hey to be fair, there could be worse names, I mean ‘Henry Hammer’? Really?” Napoleon says before he can really stop himself and the rest of the table laughs along even as Henry’s eyes narrow and that sudden slip is all Illya. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding—I mean, I guess we’re just what happens when two people who love comic books get married.” 

Napoleon could be and is definitely skirting on blowing all their covers by antagonizing Illya into breaking out of character but for some reason it vindicates him.

After all, he’s dishonest but he even he can’t ignore how damning this all is. He’s attracted to Illya’s cover, the same  _cover_ he was mocking days ago—the poetic justice of it all actually makes him want to scream. Instead he settles for beaming pleasantly at Henry. “No hard feelings, I hope?”

“Nah man, it’s nothing I’ve never heard before.”Henry says, Illya all but gone from his face. 

\---

The worst part is the dreams.

Napoleon dreams about Henry, Illya, the both of them—claiming him, letting him claim them.

Illya’s hands on his hips as he thrusts Napoleon deeper into Henry and his eager mouth. One of Napoleon’s hands in Henry’s hair and the other reaching behind to dig into the juncture between Illya’s neck and shoulder.

He wakes up with a start, heart pounding, lungs burning, and dick harder than it’s been in a long time.

Gaby snores pointedly across the room, and he tries to not focus on the disappointment in his mouth.

It’s not even been three days and already he is going insane. 

\---

"No chance you have a twin, do you?" Napoleon is still reeling from last night and has yet to fall back asleep. He’s pulling it off well he thinks—Gaby and Illya have yet to comment at least. Gaby has somehow struck a friendship of sorts with the mark and has since whisked him off to go shopping with her. Illya and Napoleon are still trying to figure out where he’s hidden his blueprints for the smart weapons since Illya so pleasantly reported that he’d been to Nial’s room on several occasions and had yet to find anything. In theory, they’re supposed to be going over where else to search but in reality, Napoleon is going through an existential crisis of sorts while Illya takes comfort in being able to shed his persona like an old skin for just this afternoon.

"You can barely handle one of me, Cowboy.” Illya flips another page in his newspaper, and even though he's still dressed like 'Henry' complete with five o'clock shadow and hair that falls in his eyes, he's every inch back to himself. 

It just adds to Napoleon's conflicting emotions aplenty.

"You know what they say about 'cowboys' Peril, save a horse by riding one." It flows a lot smoother in his head, and the minute he says it he regrets it. Illya actually lowers the newspaper to survey him and his horrible come-ons that usually work on _other_ people but apparently this is Napoleon's life now.

"Dude." Is all that comes out in Henry's perfect American accent and bewildered stare that is equal parts him and Illya. " _Dude_." 

Napoleon actually has…nothing to say to that one. He’s not even sure what he’s thinking anymore.

A knock on the door at that moment and Gaby’s laughter outside thankfully save the day, but Napoleon isn’t blind to the considering look Illya gives him just before he leaves. 

\---

Gaby is folding her new purchases into her suitcase as she reports back what she’s learned.

“I think Illya’s right—he’s nice enough, but something’s off about him.” She’s folding a very lovely jumper with bright knight flowers, as she shoves at her suitcase space to make more room. “I don’t think Waverly lied to us per se, but I think he’s hiding something—”

“You mean how the dear Mr. Mifen seems more intent on banging Peril than actually fearing for his life or even coming remotely close to revealing where his failsafes are?” Napoleon surmises because unsettled feelings about being shot down by PERIL of all people aside, he’s been doing a lot of thinking. And ultimately Illya and Gaby are right...there’s playing coy and actually being completely clueless and eerily enough, Nial manages to evade both.  He’s skillfully kept Illya (and Napoleon on the instances when he’s managed to break into the hotel room) from finding any clues whatsoever, as well as maintain an almost...calculated air of secrecy around anything that is his personal life.

Mr. Mifen...was becoming increasingly less likely to be a normal, unassuming weapons developer after all. There was an almost learned finesse to the way Nial was able to deflect--like evasion wasn’t second nature but had been instilled over time nonetheless.

“You don’t think--” Gaby begins, (clever girl) picking up exactly where his thoughts were leading, meeting his eyes with increasingly alarm. “Waverly wouldn’t--”

It’s at that moment they hear a very loud bang in the room above theirs.

\---

Napoleon picks the lock to the mark’s hotel room door in record time only to see--

“Lovely to see M trusts me THIS much.” Nial G. Mifen calls in greeting, refusing to look up from where he’s got a pen (a pen of all things, just a pen) pointed at Illya and a man tangled together on the floor. Illya glances at them as he continues to hold an unconscious assailant in a chokehold. At the sight of Gaby and Napoleon he releases the man, and pushes himself up from the floor. “Knew that he wouldn’t just GIVE me a mission out of the blue. I thought this was the kind of thing that you send a proper agent on but no, no, no—insisted I had to bring the bloody suitcase.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say M? As in the same ‘M’ that’s in charge of the 00s?” Because Napoleon may or may not be familiar with a certain 003 and she may or may not still be pissed at him for borrowing intel that was meant for British intelligence and not the CIA. 

Illya, definitely Illya this time, pushes the body off of him and just sighs. He backs away from Nial and the pen in his hand.

“This man is not what Waverly said he was.” He looks almost embarrassed, and to his credit, Nial raises his brows at the sudden accent. “This was test.”

\---

It turns out that MI6 had tasked UNCLE to help field test one of their higher ups and Waverly just happened to omit all _that_  vital information out of the dossier he gave them. The only comforting thought to Napoleon about the whole affair is that _said_ higher up had no idea he was being tested—only thought it was another case of  his superiors assigning him fieldwork to keep him ‘humble’.  (“ _M just gave me a bloody suitcase told me to use it and then told me to act like I’m on holiday and protect it with my life. Should’ve known it was all wrong when Eve practically laughed when she handed the damn thing to me._ ”)

“You see, we could do worse than have MI6 owe us and we didn’t want you to act any differently knowing that you were actually testing the loyalty of one of their own.” Waverly explains brightly, “We just didn’t count on actual criminals to figure out that we had MI6’s own Quartermaster here and seemingly ‘unprotected’.”

“So the other agents that Illya recognized were supposed to be this guy’s security detail?” Napoleon should be upset, really he should because they’ve been played around with so much, and yet assembled here around on the balcony of Waverly’s suite (of course he had been there the whole time and just forgot to conveniently mention it to ANY of them) he’s just ecstatic for it to be all over. 

“You can call me Q, Mr. Solo.” Q corrects primly, adjusting his frames slightly in the sunlight. He’s a lot less shrinking violet, surveying them all critically. “I still can’t believe they were trying to Bond-proof me.That’s what this was, wasn’t it? Make one comment comparing Bond to a type of car and they think you’re up for being seduced by field agents with enough muscle to bench you. I don’t even like Bond’s sense of punctuality—did we really need to waste a mission on this? Who even was that man that attacked us?”

“Turns out that agent from a private security firm that Illya reported was actually not hired by the British secret service but a criminal organization with a vendetta against MI6. The two agents that were sent here to keep an eye on you were reassigned to ‘take care of that problem’ shall we say. The man you successfully knocked out—with a very enterprising invention that I do hope you’d be so kind as to lend to our R&D to study—just happened to be sent by the group.” Waverly gestures towards the rest of them. “As for the importance of this mission, well now Mr. Q, governments have wasted more money on lesser things and besides, the unpleasantness of the assassination attempt behind, did you not enjoy the company and the fresh air?”

“There are worse ways to spend time at the office.” Q relents and if there’s a bite mark on his throat then he doesn’t seem too upset about it. Illya doesn’t preen with pride because he’s not actually Henry fucking Hammer thank god, but he does send a considering look.

“007 is a comparison I don’t mind being made.” Illya allows in a surprising move that makes both Gaby and Napoleon pause in their drinks. Well, well--if Napoleon didn’t know any better, that almost sounded like Illya’s made contact with the infamous 007 in the past, and probably of the more intimate variety.

“Were there ever any Russian agents here, sir?” Illya then asks because he has main priorities and it is so very good on so many levels to Napoleon. 

“Yes, and they did need a medievac—but they were actually doing work on a mission involving a human-trafficking ring to the north of here. More agents were brought in and completed the mission successfully.” Waverly tells them. “To be honest, I’m surprised you three are taking this all so well.”

“We kind of figured out something was strange about the mission, it was–”

“—Too easy.” Napoleon interjects, maybe a little vindictive. “No offence.” 

“Pot calling kettle ‘black’, is that not saying in your country?” Illya says, Ray-Bans on and lips thinned. “I do not regret mission, gave me time to practice my cover and to see sights.” 

“I got to go shopping and we really didn’t do all that much.” Gaby agrees, “though it would be nice if we could get the rest of the week off.”

“I’m sure we can work out something with MI6 since they are footing the bill after all.” Napoleon knew he liked Waverly after all.

Even if the man put him on a mission that made everything and nothing happen all at once for him. 

\---

There’s a knock on Napoleon’s door later in the evening. Gaby and Q after the big reveal have built up a strange camaraderie that has them both leaving to go discuss building and dismantling cars and probably Illya’s seduction technique. Illya and Q had a short, secret conversation that Napoleon tried to listen in on but was detained by Waverly and missed completely. Napoleon understands, truly he does—and no, he’s not relieved. Even if he is a bit. 

What he’s not expecting is to find Illya outside his door, even less so is the easy way Illya enters without invitation.

They should probably talk about…a lot of things about this mission, Napoleon has a lot to analyze about what Illya means to him, and what his whole attraction to someone that wasn’t Illya but had Illya’s face and affection could say about him as a person. Because there’s…issues, complicated issues and things that they probably will have to discuss in the near future. If only for the sake of professionalism and maybe Napoleon’s very blue balls. 

They don’t do any of that, at least…not at that moment.

Instead Illya crowds his personal space and asks, in Henry Hammer’s perfect, American English: “So, what were you saying about rides, cowboy?”

Napoleon’s smirk is filthy and his eyes are promising.

**Author's Note:**

> So 'Nial G. Mifen' is a very poor anagram of Ian Fleming cause I'm so horrible, also Ben Whishaw and London Spy and I just, THE NEW BOND MOVIE HAS IT'S PROBLEMS BUT HOW ABOUT THAT Q? Also, yes I made Gaby and Napoleon use Superboy and Supergirl as their aliases because again, horrible.
> 
> I'd also really, really quickly like to bring attention to the [Man from Uncle Valentine's Day exchange](http://spuncleexchange.tumblr.com/) I'm running, sign-ups end like, lol today (Jan 6th), but if you're even just a littlest bit interested please shoot me a message on the tumblr since valentines aren't handed out till Friday (Jan 8th) <3333


End file.
